


the brave not broken girl

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Series: Chopped Challenge Fics [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anya Lives (The 100), Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Costia Lives (The 100), F/F, Gen, Grounder Culture, Polis, Protectiveness, Raven Reyes-centric, Season/Series 02, Sunsets, dichotomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: Raven wakes up dazed and incoherent, and then she wakes up again, and finds herself in Mt. Weather. But an extremely ill man, a little detective work... and some vomit.. put her on the path to trying to save the grounders trapped in the mountain. All she has to do is get Anya to Lexa.Submission for Chopped round 1!2nd place for most unique pairing3rd place for the best use of the protectiveness trope





	the brave not broken girl

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for Chopped round 1: Canon Divergence! 
> 
> The tropes for this round are:
> 
> protectiveness  
sunsets  
a dichotomy  
a character who died in canon lives, or a character who lived in canon died.

The smell is what wakes her first. Biting and sharp in her nostrils, she can’t place it at first. It doesn’t make sense. It’s burning, too harsh on her senses.

Her mind is cloudy, which doesn’t help matters. Her thoughts are slurred like speech after too much drink, ricocheting off the walls of her mind in random order, senseless and confused.

_Sterile_.

The word breaks through the fog, sharp and clear.

The air smells sterile. Recycled.

Her mind can’t find its place, she’s lost in some unknown space.

The silence begins to break, but she still can’t seem to open her eyes, her eyelids like lead. She hears a rhythmic beeping in the distance, like its miles and miles away, getting faster and faster as she tries to cut through the clouds and the darkness to find her footing.

She’s hot, her body feels like it’s on fire, and her limbs are heavy, so heavy she can’t lift them.

The more she wakes, the more confused she becomes.

Her fingers and toes are freezing, like ice cubes. Her nose too, like the heat that was burning her alive couldn’t quite reach those places.

The noise starts to come in clearer.

A steady hum of machinery.

That same, too fast beeping.

Footsteps, too far away to place.

She’s starting to wake up, and the more she does, the more disoriented she becomes.

Her back aches in a way that seems muted, like the worst is yet to come, and her skin is covered in sweat even though she’s shivering with the cold.

She tries to move, but her left leg is strapped down to the bed.

That’s when she starts to really become aware of her surroundings.

She’s on a bed, with soft white sheets and a heavy warm blanket, her head resting on two fluffy pillows.

She has an IV line in her arm leading to a drip bag that’s almost empty hanging from a rack.

The beeping is her own heart, racing in her chest.

She has no idea where she is or how she got there.

She hears the sound of a door, and a person in a hazmat suit walks in.

“Oh goodness I’m glad you’re awake. We were really starting to worry!” Said the voice, disembodied within the suit.

She wants to scream, to yell, to demand information, but her mind is still sluggish, and her mouth is dry, cracked lips begging her to keep them closed.

The suit walks closer, lifting a fresh bag onto the rack and reattaching her IV before injecting a syringe of something into it.

She tries to fight, but as soon as the plunger is pushed the darkness creeps into the corners of her vision, and she feels herself grow heavy again.

“You need more rest,” the voice tells her, in what she assumes is meant to be a reassuring tone, “you’re still healing, and we don’t want you to do anymore damage.”

Before she can even respond, to ask what they mean, the lights go out, and her mind goes blank.

\----

The second time Raven wakes, everything is much clearer.

She was shot, she remembers now. Murphy, shooting blindly into the bottom of the ship, that’s what did it.

She remembered the pain, burning her whole body.

She remembered fading in and out of consciousness, her body broken and sore.

She remembered the roar of a fire, and then…

Nothing.

She climbs back into consciousness more calmly this time, coming too in some kind of medical wing, different from the room she was in last time she woke up. The stark white was replaced by a grey tone, and the room was lined with beds.

A medical unit.

The cold she had been feeling was from a central air conditioning system, though she wasn’t quite sure where. The heat must have been from a fever, which seemed to have broken judging by the fact that she was just cold now, deep in her bones. The sterile smell was recycled air and that distinct smell of a medical unit.

The room was lined with beds, all positioned next too heart rate monitors and IV bag racks, empty save for her.

She reached down, releasing the strap on her ankl-

She stopped, trying to bring down her breathing and her heart rate as bile rose up in her throat, and panic began to set in.

She slowly reached for the next strap, positioned midway up her calf, but it’s the same.

She couldn’t feel anything.

She unstrapped her leg completely tears welling up in her eyes as each strap is the same, until the very last, strapped around her thigh, where she finally feels her fingers brush over her bare skin.

She tried to wiggle her toes, but her foot was stone still.

A commotion by the door brought her out of her own mind, away from her leg. She laid back quickly, pulling the blanket to cover herself and hide her unstrapped leg, closing her eyes just as the door opens.

She opened her eyes just a peak, and what she saw… nothing could have prepared her.

A man was dragged in by a group of doctors in hazmat suits, covered in burns and sores, moaning and yelling in pain. As soon as he was on the bed, one of the doctors sedated him, and she watched as his body went limp. She wasn’t sure what they hoped to do for him, she’s no doctor but whatever is happening to this man, it didn’t look treatable by any medicine she’d ever heard of.

They ripped open his shirt, attaching a tube to a small port sticking out of his chest, and the doctor flipped a switch on a large machine that came roaring to life. She was too far away to see what the machine was doing, but the doctors seem satisfied, stepping back and covering him with a blanket before leaving the room.

She waited, watching the door, until she was sure no one would be coming back, and sat up, reaching over to flip off the machine that was measuring her heart rate. She carefully pulled the needle from the IV from her arm before swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She just had to stand.

She lowered her legs to the ground at the same time, feeling the cold from the floor on her bare right foot, in stark contrast to the numbness that remained on the other.

She reached over, grabbing the tree used to hold the IV bag to steady herself, taking a step. One foot in front of the other, towards the man on the bed.

Once she was close enough, she was able to take in the extent of the damage he was facing. His body is wrecked, covered in oozing sores and raw spots, but it doesn’t look like its coming from anywhere, and they aren’t… burns. Not in the way she’s seen burns before, she’d only ever seen sores like this in photos of people affected by radiation.

‘Where the fuck am I?” She whispered to herself.

From what she could tell, the only treatment they were giving him was coming through the central line port attached to his chest, which looked permanent, and like it had been there for a long time. The lines were red, and she followed the one on the right up to a machine, which seemed to be connected to some larger tube of blood coming from a line in the ceiling.

She’s just starting to look at the mechanics of it all when a noise at the door startles her, and she drags herself back as fast as she can into her bed, yanking her blankets up over herself just in time to settle as the door opened. They came over to check on her and kicked herself as they noticed the IV hanging from the bag towards the ground.

“Oh honey, you can’t just take this out, you need the antibiotics.” They said, clearly aware that she was awake.

“I’m sorry.” She said, feigning innocence. “I just, I don’t like how the medication makes me feel, I feel sleepy and confused.”

“Those were the sedatives we have you on, just to make sure you aren’t in too much pain. Are you feeling better? We can reduce the dose.” The nurse was out of her hazmat suit, Raven realised now that her eyes were open.

“Yes, much.”

“Alright.” The nurse said with a bright smile, reinserting the IV into her arm.

“And…” She paused, almost afraid to ask because knowing might make it more real, but the need to know overran her fear. “My leg?”

The nurse lifted the blanket, tutting not unkindly noticing the straps lying limp on the bed.

“You’ve been awake for some time, haven’t you?”

She nodded, defiant.

“When we found you, you had a bullet wound in your spine. You had been unconscious for some time before we found you, you sustained significant damage. We removed the bullet, and our surgeons are exceptional, however… we were not able to fix everything. There was substantial nerve damage, and your leg is likely to never recover.”

“Am I paralysed?”

“Well I-”

“I’m not some little girl who can’t take it. I’d like to know as much as I can.”

“Your friends did say you were smart.” Raven didn’t’ interrupt, but her ears perked up at mention of her friends. Wherever she was, her friends were there too. “Your left leg will have no feeling from about mid-calf down, and there is nothing we can do.”

She shut her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. She knew. She knew from the moment she had touched her leg. She had no idea how long she had been in this place, but by the fact alone that she had been moved from one room to another without any knowledge, and had had major surgery, she knew she had been there a long time. If there wasn’t any sensation by now….

She took a breath, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” She whispered, willing herself not to cry, “for helping me.”

The nurse looked confused, but in a way that made Raven think she’d not heard a genuine kind word from a patient in a while. Especially not one who had every reason to be furious.

“Of course, my dear.”

The nurse lifted her up, changing the dressing on her back wound, dabbing it with an antiseptic of some kind and smearing some sort of ointment before pressing a clean gauze pad back onto her skin.

“Now you stay here, and you’ll be free to roam around, and we’ll reunite you with your friends any day now! They are all very worried about you.”

“Where am I?”

“Oh, of course. You’ve been unconscious for so long, I forgot we haven’t had a chance to tell you. You’re in Mt. Weather dear.”

The nurse covered her back up, and left the room, and Raven let the tears take.

Her plan was to allow herself to cry, just for a moment, but as soon as it started it was like the floodgates opened. Every feeling from the past month since she landed on the ground came flooding back.

The fear of losing Finn.

Coming to the ground to find that she had lost him anyway.

Almost dying on that bridge, blowing it to piece.

_Torturing_ a man, to save someone else. To save Finn.

Watching these kids… these people she’d come to love, die in horrific ways.

Her heart couldn’t take it, and she let the dam break, and cried herself to sleep.

\---

She woke up hours later, in what she presumed was the middle of the night based on the circadian cycle lighting. Her face felt puffy and her throat was dry, but she sat up straight. It had been a long time since she let herself feel that much, she so often pushed it down. She flexed her toes on her right foot and took a deep breath.

Grateful. That was what she felt now.

The anger from hours ago was a distant memory, wrapped in a fog.

But her right toes wiggled on command, and her body felt strong and healthy. Her back only ached a little, like a distant pain from years ago, and her head felt clear again, after hours of being off the sedative.

She had lived, survived a gunshot to the spine.

Grateful.

That’s what she should be feeling now. That’s what she knew she should be feeling.

She rolled her neck, trying to bring herself into the right space in her mind, when she saw him.

The man who had been wheeled in earlier that very same day was still on the bed on the other end of the room, but what she saw made her question whether she had been asleep for hours, or days.

She dragged herself out of the bed again, limping over to his bedside.

While he was still riddled with sores… his skin was clearing at a rapid pace.

The sores were smaller, and some of them were gone completely, his skin pink and raw in their place. He was still hooked up only to the central line port, but the nurse hadn’t checked on him at all earlier, so whatever was happening didn’t need her supervision.

She looked at the machine a little closer. She had assumed, the first time she had been at his bedside, that the blood was being filtered in the machine, to help cope with the radiation, but no filtering technology she had ever heard of could do this in such a short time. She followed the large tube filled with blood feeding into the top of the machine, up to the point where it connected with a thick metal tubing in the ceiling. The tubing ran along the ceiling, over, over, over, until it disappeared into the wall a bit before it met the corner.

Whatever was curing him was coming from somewhere else.

She dragged her leg behind her as she made her way to the point where the tubing fed into the wall, right next to a large vent cover.

Wherever that blood was coming from, whatever was helping these men, was on the other side of that wall.

She yanked a chair over and stepped up on it, finding her footing, yanking the cover off the wall and setting the cover on the floor, hoisting her body up into the vent after detaching the IV bag from her arm. 

She crawled, for probably a couple hundred feet, through a winding tunnel with no forks, until she came face to face with another vent cover. She pushed as hard as she could, finally dislodging it from the wall sending it crashing to the ground. She rolled her body over onto her back, scooting herself forward until she could reach up and grab the rim of the tunnel, sliding her body out of the tunnel until her feet were about 6 inches above the ground.

She braced herself, and let go, dropping to the ground. She felt solid ground under her right foot, and remained steady, so she turned.

And fell to the ground instantly at the sight before her.

Two people, a bulky man and a slim, fit woman, were hanging by their ankles from the ceiling, white gauze wrapped around their bodies to hide only the most private parts, exposed to the cold of the room. From their abdomens, long thin tubing came from their skin, red with blood that was being drained from their bodies.

She felt bile rising in her throat, and she couldn’t supress it, vomiting across the floor next to her.

Twice.

As she pulled herself back up to standing, half wishing she had been able to yank the IV tree behind her as she tried to balance herself, she became aware of the noise in the room.

Yelling.

Talking.

It was loud, banging on metal and voices echoing off the stone walls.

She turned and took in the view.

Rows, and rows and rows… and rows and rows and rows of cages, filled with people. People. People wrapped in the same gauze as the two hanging from the ceiling. Some of the people she could see looked frail, and some looked feral and furious.

Living. Breathing. Human beings.

She turned and threw up again.

She dragged herself, still unsteady on her leg, towards the people hanging from the ceiling. Grounders, she could tell now that she was getting a closer look, based on their tattoos and the braids in their hair.

The hazmat suits, which she now realised were radiation proof suits, meant the people in the mountain couldn’t metabolise radiation. If they went outside, she presumed, they would end up like the man on the bed in the medical unit.

Which meant the radiation levels outside were well above the normal level survivable by human beings. The grounders likely survived with some genetic adaptation allowing them to metabolise it, but her and the other kids on the ground… how could she-

The sun.

Of COURSE.

Solar radiation was at a much higher level than even nuclear radiation, and she had grown up with just a tin can and some vacuum proof glass between her and direct radiation. Even less when she was out on a spacewalk. 

But the grounders could easily metabolise the level of radiation that would clearly kill someone from inside the mountain.

They were using them to save their people.

As she stood there, watching, the tubing running out of the man on the right ran dry, and she heard the heart monitor attached to him start to beep frantically, and flatline.

She heard people coming, and she knew that she should hide, tuck herself behind some machine or haul herself back into the tunnel before she got caught, but she could barely even think. He was dead, hanging by his ankles in a dark, cold room, covered in wiring and tubes, wrapped in gauze.

The noise coming from the other side of the door grew louder and sprung her into action. She hauled herself over and pushed the vent covering back up over the opening and settled behind a big machine right before the door opened.

The door opened and a group of men walked in. They moved the man around, still hanging from the ceiling, touching his neck to test for a pulse. When it was clear that they knew, as well as she did, that he was dead, they unlatched him from the ceiling, letting his body slam to the floor without ceremony. They unlatched him and unhooked him, pulling tubes and needles from his skin, before dragging him by his arms towards a door.

They pushed a button on the wall, dragging the body into the room, leaving him limp on the floor, and she lost sight of him as the door slid closed.

“We’re gonna need to start up another one, Langston ain’t quite done yet.”

“Yeah, we can send in Tsing later to pick. This one looks like it’s got plenty left for now.” The man said, poking the woman’s body, and laughing as she groaned under the heavy sedation, before heading out of the dungeon.

The bile was back in her throat, and she held it until the door closed behind them. She wasn’t sure how she could still have anything left to expel, but there it was, watery and thin on the ground.

She pulled herself back up to standing, stepping carefully around the vomit, and walking over to the girl. She was just about to touch when a voice called out from behind her.

“Help us.”

She turned and found an elderly woman in a cage close to the edge of the room.

“Please.” The woman said, her voice frail and quiet. The room seemed to have quieted to allow her to speak.

She walked over to her, pushing her fingers through the cage wires.

“How long have you been here?” Raven asked, the idea of it all taking root in her mind.

“I don’t know… There’s no way to tell in this place. But I’ve seen so many of my people die.”

“Ho- How can I help you?” She asked, uncertain. “I’m… I’m just me. I don’t know… I don’t…”

“Get her out.” The woman said, pointing to a cage on the other side of the room.

In a cage on the bottom, two from the edge, was a woman she had seen before.

Her thick, blonde hair covered her angular face brought it rushing back.

The dropship, the noise, the smell of the burning.

And a grounder woman, fierce and terrifying, launching herself into the ship at the last second, to be surrounded by children who unleashed their anger on her.

Anya, that was the name that rang in her ears.

Anya. From the bridge, the one who took Clarke and Finn. The leader of the warriors who tried to kill her people.

“Get her out, find the commander. She was her second, she can help us.” The woman said, pulling Raven out of her own mind.

She looked at Anya again, imagining the world she would be in if Anya hadn’t come into their lives.

“She-… She killed my people.” Raven said, feeling herself lurch backwards away from Anya’s cage. “She’s their _leader_, she…”

“She is a warrior, but our leader is out there. You must help us.”

Raven’s mind was spinning with the idea of it. She knew, instinctually, that if she did not help Anya get free, she would not only regret it, but she would be complicit in the continuation of what she could only describe as a genocide. But the only imagines in her mind were of her people dying. Children slaughtered in battles they should never have been forced to fight. Their faces lined up in her mind, one after the other, reminding her exactly what Anya had done. Saving her or avenging her people. Saving these people or finding a way to pay the debt she felt she was owed.

Being a good person or falling prey to vengeance.

Doing the right thing.

Or not.

Before she could let her mind trace the path to find a way to convince herself that she should leave Anya, she spotted a pair of bolt cutters on the other side of the room and her body carried her there without any thought from her own mind. She grabbed the cutters and found Anya’s cage, cutting the heavy lock that kept her inside.

Anya seemed weak, and frail, her body thin and pallid. She wondered how many times this warrior had been drained hanging from this same ceiling.

“Come on,” She groaned, helping lift the warrior from the ground, “we have to get out of here.”

“You fell from the sky. You blew up the bridge.” Anya’s voice was weak, but full of fire and anger.

“And you killed my people, you kidnapped my friends. They would be dead if Lincoln hadn’t done what was right.” Raven spit like venom from her lips. “But I’m your best chance of getting out of this place, so either shut up and come with me, or you can rot here for all I care.”

Anya was standing now, only a little taller than Raven but what she lacked in size was made up for by her menacing stature. She seemed to tower over Raven.

They stood, for only a few seconds, looking at one another in rage, before Raven lifted her hand, a peace offering. Anya gripped her forearm tightly, and a truce was built between them.

Anya led the way, pulling Raven along towards the door.

“No, that’s where the put the dead bodies, what are you-”

“The bodies must go somewhere, and they aren’t keeping them here. It leads to the outside.”

Oh.

Duh.

Anya punched the button on the wall, the door sliding open revealing a small room with no doors or windows. They walked in, and the door slid closed behind them, trapping them.

Best case, they’d die in this hole.

Worst, they’d get found out and hung from their ankles until they were sacks with nothing inside, used and drained for these monsters.

She wondered about the nurse, wondered if the kind woman who had helped care for her knew.

She assumed they all did.

That was what she was thinking about when the floor dropped out from below her feet, sending her falling into the darkness.

\---

They landed, one after the other, in some kind of container, and she slowly became aware of the bodies.

So many bodies.

Piled below her, cold and hardened.

The smell caught up with her mind, and somehow, now was the time her body decided it had nothing left to vomit up, so she dry-heaved nothing into the air around her.

Once she finally caught up with her surroundings, she realised they were in a tunnel of some sort. It was dark, and damp, and she could smell the dirt, a heavy smell that she had grown accustomed to since she landed on Earth. The bodies were grounders, who had been drained, and there were likely 20 of them piled beneath her now. She watches as Anya wipes tears from her face as she looks at the bodies beneath them, before standing and starting to climb out of the container. Raven tries to stand, but with her bad leg and the bodies creating an uneven ground, she can’t quite make it.

Anya realises it before Raven gets a word in.

“You are broken.” The way she says it makes it sound simply like a fact, no malice in her voice, but it feels like a punch to the gut.

“Not _broken_.” Raven spits back, trying to find a word to explain what she is now.

“Your leg, does it work?” Anya asked, and it sounded like she was taking inventory.

Raven shook her head no, still angry at the feeling it brought.

“No.” She said, trying to get a grip on the edge of the container so she could stand. “But my leg isn’t what’s special about me. My leg isn’t what’s going to help those people. My mind is, and if you want my help, you’d better not ever call me ‘broken’ again.”

Anya didn’t look angry, or even frustrated, she was calm, a curt nod.

“Well, whatever we are going to call it, you will need my help, yes?”

Raven nodded, realising now why Anya was asking. Not to be cruel, or to hurt her, but to help.

Help Raven would likely need now, trying to trek through the forest to go with Anya to the Commander.

Help she would need for a lot of things now.

She shoved the feelings back down. Now was not the time for this realisation, she needed to keep moving.

As if on cue a yell came from somewhere in the tunnel, springing them both into action.

She pushed herself up as well as she could, and Anya helped her stand, boosting her up and over the edge before climbing out as well, and they took off towards the light, her arm over Anya’s shoulder, Anya holding strong around her waist to support her as they went. 

They found another container, bodies piled high, a bit further down, and Anya stopped them, finding bodies with clothes and yanking them from the pile, tossing her pants and a shirt, boots and a jacket.

They were tugging the last of their clothes on when a loud scream came from somewhere in the distance, and Anya’s face showed terror.

“Reapers.” She whispered, her voice shaking with fear. “The mountain they… make monsters out of us. We have to run.”

“You want me to wh-” before raven could finish her sentence, Anya had grabbed her under her arms again and was dragging her along the tunnel as fast as she possibly could. They found a fork, and another, but Anya never stopped, never seemed to question her direction, she just kept going until they reached the edge of the tunnel that tipped off into a massive waterfall.

She wanted to tell Anya she couldn’t swim, that she was afraid to jump off a literal cliff into some unknown water below, but before the words came out, two men in hazmat suits rounded the corner.

“Stop, now. We will shoot.” A disembodied voice from inside the suit.

She’d been shot one, she didn’t like her chances a second time, especially up against someone who could see her and probably had decent aim.

Not sure how much better she’d fair off the edge of the cliff, but… of the two options…

They jumped.

Anya grabbed her hand, pulling her off the cliff, their fingers clinging to each other as the plummeted over the side.

All she could feel was wind, rushing on all sides, and the spray of water all around her.

Down.

Down.

Down.

And then it all went dark.

\---

Her friends.

That was her first though after she came too, hacking and spitting mouthfuls of water onto the ground beneath her.

Her friends were still trapped in that place, and she had just left them there.

She tried to get up, as if she could find some way back, but Anya’s hand laid heavy on her shoulder.

“You must rest for a moment.” The warriors voice was soft and gentle. “We fell a long way, and you could not swim. Take a breath.”

Raven sat up, trying to get a hold of herself.

“My friends.” She whimpered, her chest sore from lack of oxygen.

“That is why we must hurry. We must get to Polis, from there, the Commander can help us. There is nothing we can do for them if we don’t find our way to her.”

“My people could help, my people-”

“Our people have been fighting the mountain for as long as we can remember. The commander will know best.”

Raven couldn’t argue with that logic, and so when Anya stood and offered her a hand, she took it gratefully, allowing herself to be pulled to standing.

She wasn’t usually one to follow other people’s orders. She was the smartest person in any room, and she knew it. But this room? The forests of a radiation-soaked earth, filled with warriors and monsters alike?

Yeah, it seemed Anya might be better suited to be the leader this time around.

Anya led them through the dense forests, long through the day, coming up on a clearing on a hilltop as the sky was turning purple and orange, burning with the rays of the sun finally falling below the horizon.

“We can rest here,” Anya said, plopping down on the ground at Raven’s feet, “we are in Trikru territory now, no one will dare challenge me.”

Raven didn’t question it, and sat down next to her on the ground, watching the sun burn the clouds into red and yellow as it sank lower and lower.

She wanted to ask Anya if she was okay, if she had been harmed, but it felt stupid.

As if Anya could read her mind, she spoke.

“I thought I might never see the sun set again." Anya said, her voice shaky and ripe with exhaustion. "To die in a place like that... hidden from the sky, so far from the earth." A tear streaked down her cheek. "They bled me once, just for an hour or so, but… I’ve never been afraid like I was in that place.” The woman whispered, almost like she was talking to herself. “My people have been tormented by the mountain for as long as anyone can remember. No one has ever come out alive, we didn’t…” a sob broke through her chest, and Raven suddenly had no idea what to do. “We didn’t know. What they were doing to our people, nobody knew. They turn us into monsters and bleed us dry… and we just… let them.”

“Not fighting back against a power with more forces and technology than yourself is not ‘letting’ them do anything.” Raven said, the words forceful in the cold evening air. She watched as the sun finally lowered itself below the horizon, leaving a cool breeze and purple sky in its wake. “You tried to keep yourselves safe, but there’s no way you could have ever known… or been able to defend yourselves if you had. But now… we can help.”

“And what can Skaikru do?” Anya spit, anger finding its way through her tears.

“We have better tech, we have guns… and if we work together, we can get all of our people out alive.”

Anya turned to face her, her cheekbones shining from her tears, and nodded before turning away.

“We will save them all.” She whispered, and that was that.

The night crept on, and no one came to bother them, and Raven slept under the stars, hopeful and terrified all at once.

\---

The next day Anya woke them early, and they trekked through the woods well into the evening before coming upon a sign pointing them towards Polis. The sun was low in the sky as they entered into the city, and Raven stopped in her tracks.

A real city.

Not so much like the ones she had seen in textbooks and movies on the ark. Those cities were clean and shiny, towering buildings covering endless expanses of pavement. But it was full of energy, like the cities she had seen in those movies.

There were people everywhere. Cooking at small food stands, the smells of roasting meat and baked bread wafting everywhere, the noise of voices a constant vibration in the air. Bustling. It was a word she had heard before, but she had never fully understood it until this moment.

Anya pulled her along, a small smile on her stony face as she watched Raven drink in the sights and smells and sounds of this place.

They’re winding through the city streets, heading towards an enormous tower that seemed to be the central point of the city. Anya seemed to know the city almost innately, never pausing or stopping. Raven spotted a small stand with fruit in humongous piles, bright greens and reds and yellows, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Anya, please.” She said, almost dazed. Everything that was coming at her, she was almost overloaded. “I’ve never had…”

“Fruit?” Anya said, shaking her head. “The ground offers many gifts to those who keep it. Space I’m sure is not so kind.”

“Not even close.” She responded, still staring. “What’s the best one?”

“Well, my favourite is a… I don’t know the English word, but its yellow and orange, with a stone in the middle, and the skin is soft, almost like fur? But those are only good in the summer months. In the fall, the berries are the best. Those black ones are nice.”

“Can we… I’d like to try some.”

Anya shook her head, almost laughing but not quite, before walking over to the stand, speaking in trigedasleng to the woman at the stand.

When Anya’s back was to her, a woman in thick furs and a man with tattoos crawling across his face approached her.

“You speak the language of the sky people. You have no business here.” The woman’s voice was like ice.

“I’m sorry I-” Smart as she may be, a warrior she was not. She looked over, but Anya hadn’t seemed to hear the commotion, still bent over the fruits, carefully selecting the best ones.

The man pulled a small knife from his side, advancing menacingly.

“Please I jus-” The knife was at her throat, and she froze, trying to remain still.

“How did a sky girl with only one good leg manage to sneak into our capital city, hmm? Do they believe this is the best they can offer to bring us down from within?” The man said, bringing laughter from the woman that was sharp and angry.

The man was lifting her chin with the knife, and she could feel her skin breaking under the blade, when a pair of disembodied hands reached up, grabbed him by the head, and broke his neck.

So fast she could barely see what happened, Anya pulled the sword from the man’s hip before he hit the ground and sliced the back of the woman’s legs before punching her hard in the face.

As the woman sank to the ground, blood pouring from her face, unable to stand.

“I hope you will pass along this message to those who find you here. I am Anya, kom Trikru, and the sky girl is under my protection. She will not be harmed here, under pain of my vengeance and wrath.” She sank lower still, until she was face to face with the woman, grabbing her by the hair. “Let us see how Ouskejonkru treats a warrior with no good legs.” She whispered, before standing and stomping hard on the woman’s ankle, a loud snap echoing off the walls, barely audible under the woman’s scream.

Raven was still standing, blood dripping from the small cut on her chin, in shock.

“Are you alright, _strik skai gada_?”

“You… you didn’t have to do that for me.”

Anya turned and picked up the fruit she had set carefully on the ground.

“You saved my life, _skai gada_. You risked your life for me, and for my people.” Anya said, very matter of fact. “You have proven yourself a brave warrior in your own way. Skaikru is lucky to have you, even if you have only one good leg.”

Maybe it was the fear finally subsiding, or maybe it was the absurdity of what had happened to her in the last four days, but she broke.

Laughter poured from her, shaking her whole body, and tears started to fall, from fear or stress or just from laughter, she wasn’t sure. She fell to her knees, wheezing silently as the laughter wracked through her.

She finally stood back up, after a few minutes, the bewildered look on Anya’s face laced with endearment, and plucked a berry from the small basket Anya held, popping it in her mouth.

She bit down, and it exploded with tart, sweet juice, washing over her taste buds and causing the muscles in her jaw to tighten, and her mouth to water.

It was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Clearly it showed, because Anya smiled the biggest smile, she’d seen from her yet, wide and full of teeth, joyful in a way she hadn’t even been sure Anya could experience.

The more time she spent with Anya, the more human the grounders seemed.

It sounded bad, to think that. That people, human beings, felt less human to her, but before this point, they had been abstract concepts. Warriors and soldiers sent to kill her. Other than Lincoln, they had seemed almost caricatures of people, mindless machines with one goal, violent and monstrous.

But the people in that mountain weren’t monsters. The people in that mountain were just… people. The man that had died before her eyes had people who loved him, and he had been drained and killed as if he was nothing more than a resource to be tapped and exploited.

Anya was kind, and fierce, loyal and brave. She was protective and pragmatic and thoughtful. She was a leader, a good one, who took charge in all aspects of their little journey together.

The grounders had been feral monsters, the stuff of storybook nightmares, before this, but now the idea of seeing them that way was enough to make her remember the taste of the bile that she had spilled across the floor of the mountain. These people were a community, they had cities and a culture, they believed in things and loved.

Her resolve grew even further.

All those people in that mountain, all those human beings caged like animals. It brought fire and fury licking up her spine at the thought of it.

She stood, her pulse loud in her own ears.

“Get me to the commander,” She whispered, her voice shaking with renewed rage, “we have to save our people.”

Anya rolled her shoulders back, pride radiating off of her, and turned on her heel, leading the way.

\---

The elevator was slow, rising up, up, up towards the top of the tower in the centre of the city, and Raven felt her anxiety starting to rise up into her chest. They had likely been inside for almost 10 minutes when it creaked to a halt, and the doors slowly opened.

A throne room, drafty with large windows, spread out before her.

To say the commander was nothing like Raven expected would be the understatement of the century.

On the throne sat a girl.

That’s the only word she could use. A girl, likely no older than 18 or 19, with thick dark hair in intricate braids falling long over her shoulders, black eye paint dripping down her face around bright green eyes, in a way that looked both intentional and feral. A long red cape spread at her feet, where she sat with her legs spread wide, her feet planted on the ground in heavy boots. She hadn’t looked up yet, as she was focused on the woman standing to her right. Tall and thin, with brown skin so dark it was almost black. She wore golden bracelets, golden rings, golden necklaces, golden earrings, shining against her midnight skin. Her hair was tall, brilliant tightly coiled black curls rising high towards the ceiling, a thin scarf, the same red as the cape worn by the woman on the throne, wrapped around the base of the poof of hair. The closer she looked the more obvious it was that the scarf was made from the cape itself. The woman standing wore a soft blue dress that floated around her body, fluttering in the breeze from the open window.

Their hands were laced together on the arm of the throne, and the dark-skinned woman’s eyes were bright and happy, and they spoke softly.

She was the one who looked up first, barely moving her head to signal to the green-eyed queen that someone had entered.

The moment her attention was turned to them, Anya sank to her knees.

“_Heda_.” She whispered, and Raven felt the room shift.

This must be Lexa.

She turned her head to face her, and was met with an expectant stare.

Before she could attempt to move, Anya spoke up.

“She cannot kneel, Heda, her leg is injured. But I would never have her kneel to anyone.”

“Who is she, and why do we speak in the language of the skai people?”

“She is Raven, kom Skaikru. She saved me.”

At this, both Lexa and the woman at her side seemed to take surprise.

“Saved you. A Skai girl?” Lexa’s voice was almost a snarl. “You are Trikru’s greatest warrior, why would you need rescuing from a broken skai girl.”

“She is not broken.” Anya growled, and Lexa stood instantly, commanding fear from those around her. “She was injured, by a skaikru weapon, in her spine. She lived, and she found me.”

“Found you?”

“In the mountain.” Anya said, and an audible gasp escaped from the woman’s lips.

“Lexa, the mountain.” The woman whispered, and Lexa turned to her, her body language shifting from the menacing stature they witnessed to a softer, calming mood.

She walked over, taking the woman’s hand, before turning back.

“You speak of things that are impossible. No one escapes the mountain.”

“I beg pardon, _Heda_, but… Raven saved me. She found us, trapped in metal cages, and she freed me, at the request of a Delphikru elder, and we escaped together. We came here, because we… she can help us.”

“What can a skai girl do for us?” Lexa spit, her voice a threatening timbre, but the woman to her right spoke again.

“Lex, _ai hodnes_, whatever she may or may not be able to do, she brought Anya back to us from the mountain. We surely would have lost her forever without this woman. We must welcome her.” The woman pressed a kiss into the inside of Lexa’s wrist, twirling one of the Commander's braids in her thin fingers, before turning and stepping forward.

“I am Costia, kom Trikru, and we are grateful for your bravery, Raven kom Skaikru. Let us find you a place to wash up, while Anya and Lexa speak.”

Lexa stood stoic by her throne, and Costia came and took her hand, leading her away.

They drew her a hot bath in a beautiful room, full of furs and candles, and sliding into the water she released a sigh she hadn’t known she was capable of releasing.

Costia helped wash her, and Raven couldn’t help but ask.

“If Lexa is the leader, what is Anya?” She pressed gently.

“You do not know much of our people, do you _skai gada_?”

“Well, considering I don’t even know what that means, I’ll say no, no I don’t.” She said, for the first time having no trouble admitting when she didn’t know something. “But Anya is a leader. I know she is; I’ve seen it. But when she is around Lexa, she… I could not have believed she would ever subjugate herself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. She is not a follower, but with Lexa she makes herself small.”

Costia laughed, pouring some kind of soap into her hands to wash Raven’s hair. She would say it felt too intimate, but it felt like the first real kindness Raven had been shown in… longer than she could remember, so she let it happen.

“_Skai gada _mean Sky Girl.” She said with a light laugh. “Lexa is our commander. She leads the 12 clans. She has created the first coalition between all the clans, even Azgeda. Anya is the leader of Trikru, a very important general in Lexa’s army. Lexa and I are both of Trikru, Lexa grew up with Anya, she was her second for some time before she was brought here to train with the other natblidas, and she is like a sister to us both.” Raven felt like asking about natblidas, but it felt too big and complex for today, so she let it pass. “Anya is a great warrior, and a strong leader, but Lexa is... like a queen.” Costia had begun to rinse the soap from her hair.

“And you?”

“Oh… Lexa is… I…” Costia seemed almost sheepish, for the first time, a bright smile stretching across her teeth. “She is mine, and I am hers.”

Raven couldn’t help but smile at this.

“And why would the Queen’s… love… be here, washing my hair like some kind of servant girl.” She asked, almost immediately trying to bite the words back into her mouth.

“You saved Anya. You brought her back to us. Lexa has been almost sick with worry since she disappeared. You did something so important for us, and even if Lexa doesn’t show it, she is very grateful. Anya is her family. Helping you get the dirt of the world cleaned off of you is the very least I could do. Besides, if gave us a chance to talk.”

“Thank you.” Raven said, feeling like a weight that she had barely known was weighing on her had been lifted away. “I hope I can help.”

“You can start by telling Lexa everything you know and going from there.” Costia said, helping her stand and step from the tub, presenting her with clean, soft clothes. “Might I ask… Why does Anya think you to be so valuable? I have never known her to put so much faith in someone who isn’t a warrior.”

Raven yanked on the boots that had been brought for her, standing tall. She would need to ask for a cane or something, but she felt stronger than she had in ages.

“Because I’m a genius.” She said, matter of fact, and she watched with pride as Costia’s face brightened and a bell like laugh rang out.

\---

She was brought back to the throne room, to find Lexa and Anya sat on the ground near the throne, their hands clasped together, tears streaking the makeup on Lexa’s face down to her chin. She watched as Lexa leaned forward and pressed a kiss into Anya’s forehead, before wrapping her in a hug. Costia coughed delicately, and Lexa turned, barely separating from Anya, facing Raven head on.

“Anya says you are very brave, and that your mind may be our greatest asset in this fight against the mountain.”

“I don’t know about brave, but she is right about my mind.”

“Why do you believe yourself to be so valuable?” Lexa’s voice was harsh, but not unkind. She was pressing, because of course it seemed absurd.”

“I did not come down from space with everyone else. I came on my own, in a ship I rebuilt myself. I worked on our ship in space, outside the ship. I am a mechanic; I could have been an engineer if I had more time. I’m the youngest zero-G mechanic in 52 years on the ark, and I’m the smartest person in any room.” She didn’t flinch as she spoke, because, no matter who this grounder queen might be, Raven knew her worth. “I can help you get your people back.”

Lexa stood, walking towards her slowly. Everything about her seemed regal, and threatening, but Costia, stepped forward, holding onto Lexa’s arm gently, whispering something in the grounder tongue that raven couldn’t hear, much less understand, and Lexa softened.

She came closer, leaving Costia to reunite with Anya behind her.

They were face to face, only inches between them, and Raven stood tall, trying not to let her leg give her away. She could tell Lexa respected strength, and in this culture of warriors she wasn't sure whether her mind would be enough to put faith in a brave not broken girl.

To her surprise, Lexa reached over, sliding her arm under Raven’s and around her back, holding her steady.

“Anya says you have people inside that mountain as well. Let’s get you a cane,” she said, and Raven felt herself stand even taller, finally seeing that these grounder warriors did not see her disability as a weakness, simply something she needed to contend with. “Let’s get you a cane and get our people back.”

She looked into the stoic face of a girl who was likely her same age, and realised they now bore this burden together.

Anya stood, still holding Costia's hand while Costia wept quietly at being reunited with Anya, nodding curtly behind Lexa, a soft smile on her face.

Raven nodded, and they turned together, the four of them, walking towards the hall towards Lexa’s war room.

With this grounder queen, and her newfound friend in Anya, they might just be able to save everyone. 


End file.
